


Come Morning Light

by newmrsdewinter



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Action & Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, aged-up lucina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newmrsdewinter/pseuds/newmrsdewinter
Summary: Xander blinked, suddenly disarmed. This wasn’t what he had expected at all. He detected a quality to the woman that he understood viscerally as a prince, a sense of power and dignity which set her apart from common men. She stood before him unflinchingly, resolutely. Her plain armor may have fooled everyone else, but he knew, and he needed to find out more.Clearing his throat, he let this boom of his voice reverberate through the entire stadium when he asked, “Warrior, what is your name?”Her smile never wavered. “My name is Marth.”[Lucina retainer AU. Follows post-game Awakening and maybe Revelations.]





	

 

Xander had never seen a woman quite like the warrior in the stadium.

He was convinced that she was a woman behind her butterfly mask. No man could have moved so lithely on his feet with something obscuring his vision. When she fought, it was almost as if she was gliding on air, and when she held her sword, she swung it with the surety of a soldier who never had to haggle for their life on the battlefield. From her stance, it was obvious that she had fought and won in many.

But what was puzzling about her was that she bore no shield. There was no sigil or heraldry to speak of on her person that he could use to identify her house or origins. True, a Nohrian of any blood could compete in the tourneys, but only the highborn made it to the final rounds undefeated. She had no squire, no horse, no pavilion, no banners to champion her name, and Xander didn’t even know what it was. He didn’t hear the herald shout anything to announce her.

Down in the arena, the fighters were taking a brief rest before the final round of the tourney. She should have been as exhausted as all the other knights who braved the lists, but none of her fatigue had shown when Xander watched her wipe her blunted blade clean with a rag. 

An annoyed voice cut through his thoughts. “I _said,_  there’s much to admire about our new champion,” Camilla said irritably, tapping him on the shoulder several times with her fan. “But I see you’ve been doing enough of that on your own.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Xander said at once, but he still found it hard to pull his eyes away from the woman's magnetic presence. She was waving at the crowds cheering her on in the stands.

“Did you hear me say anything about staring?” Camilla asked innocently. “I don’t recall saying anything about staring.”

Elise giggled at both of them. “Xander, you were practically _drooling._  Oh, he’s so dreamy!” she gushed. “I wonder what he looks like without the mask.”

“Me too,” admitted Camilla. “He’s impressive, very impressive. You know, I wonder if…” The sound of her voice trailed off as Xander tuned her out again.  

So the mask had managed to fool both of his sisters. Small wonder, too. Their box stood three tiers higher than the ground in the arena, granting them all a perfect view of the stadium, but there was little that they could surmise of the woman’s features from so far away.

Around him, the entire arena was ablaze with torchlight, thundering with the boom of hundreds of pairs of feet as the smallfolk filled the rest of the empty benches before the final match could begin. All that Xander could see was a stream of colored banners and a teeming mass of people trying to elbow their way through the crowd for the best seats.

He lost sight of her in the crowd. He looked beside him. In the high-backed chair next to his own, Leo rested his head in his hand, flipping through one of his tomes with a distinctly bored look on his face. Xander reached over to shut the book in his lap, forcing his brother awake.

“What?” Leo scowled. “The match hasn’t started yet!”

Xander frowned. “Haven’t I told you how rude it is to read at a tourney? Countless times I’ve told you this. Stop at once.”

“This isn’t the dinner table,” Leo muttered, but he put the book away.

At last, a blasting fanfare of trumpets heralded the coming of the final challengers. Xander sat still in his seat, waiting for her to appear. Suddenly, the stadium erupted in a deafening roar. A thousand spectators cheered and cursed and stomped their feet when the masked woman filed out to the center of the arena alone.

She paused at his viewing box for a brief moment, dipping to a small bow to salute the royal family. He nodded at her, but a distinct feeling of disquiet had settled at the corners of his awareness.  _She was looking at me._

“Good luck!” Elise shouted after her. “I'm rooting for you!”

Camilla nudged him playfully with her fan. “Shall we place bets for the victor?”

“No,” he replied, so curtly that it should have silenced her. “We’re not meant to show favor.”

“But Elise just did,” she said, pouting at him.

“Elise is an exception.”

“Oh, come now,” she said. “A fun little wager won't hurt anyone. Everyone else is doing it, and I promise that the odds will be in your favor.”

“Camilla,” he began warningly.

“If she loses, I'll take your next mission from father, and I'll give up steak for the rest of the season.”

“Ah,” he said, noting her change in pronoun. “So you saw it too.”

“Oh, I knew it the moment she came to our box,” she replied. “It’s quite obvious up close. But about our wager…”

He couldn't deny that his interest had been piqued. “And if she wins?” he prompted quietly.

“You have to take her as your new retainer.”

"What?"

"You heard me," said Camilla coyly. "Do it, before father shoves another fool at you. Wouldn't you like to see what she looks like without the mask?"

Xander grunted something indiscernible in response. He was confused, but there wasn’t anything he could decipher from Camilla's crooked smile apart from sheer mirth. True, he was in the market for a new retainer after the ineptitudes of the last, but he wasn’t about to choose someone from a tourney. It was a ridiculous notion.

But his eyes flicked back to the stadium. The woman was speaking to the Master of Games in the center of the field. He watched them interact in a hazy veil of thought, watching the way she was handed her sword, the way her thumb ran over the pommel while she listened. It was a sign of restlessness in greener knights, but Xander supposed that for her, it was an unconscious habit.

“I don’t even know her name,” he said suddenly, more to himself than to Camilla.

She laughed. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

A new set of trumpets blared in the night, and these ones were deeper and more brazen than the last. Xander turned to the western end of the stadium, just now remembering the presence of an opponent.

From out of the shadows emerged a hulking barrel-chested berserker with all the grace of a dead elephant. He broke into a raucous fit of laughter when he saw his slender opponent in the center of the stadium. He began to jeer and shout catcalls at her, riling up the crowd in the stands to do the same, only much louder than before.

The masked woman looked supremely unruffled by the sudden tumult. If anything, Xander could almost swear that she was grinning as her blade slid from its scabbard. It was finely crafted, with a polished crimson grip and an odd teardrop space in the rain guard.

“We have a deal,” Xander said to Camilla. “But forget about the next mission from father - it’s not yours gamble. But I’m holding you to your promise about steak.”

“Cheater,” she accused playfully. “You only said yes when you saw who she’s up against.”

She was wrong, but he paid her no mind. He couldn’t hide the small smirk on his face when he redirected his attention to the stadium. The match was about to begin, and both challengers assumed their positions. One collective breath was held before the horn was blared; once sounded, all stillness erupted into an uproar of screams and cheers.

Live steel crashed against iron with an awful force, and the berserker heaved the axe’s haft to deflect the woman’s first blow. The end was only millimeters away as she danced out of his explosive reach, lunging in again to throw herself into another attack. He swung at her again with all his brutal strength and only barely missed her again.

Breaking through the berserker’s sheer enormity was no mean feat - patience and strategy was embedded in the masked woman’s every move as she waited for him to make the next strike. She slashed forward, catching the axe with her blade and twisting up to throw him off balance. It would worked if he weren’t so strong. Instead, he brought his arm around in a bone-shattering backhand, striking her clear across the cheek with his fist.

A thousand spectators fell into a collective groan when she reeled backwards, holding her face with her free hand.

“Come, come, little princess,” he taunted loudly, and the crowd behind him roared. “Time to face the mountain.”

She licked the blood off her torn lip and resumed her stance, this time using both hands to bring her sword down on his axe, but to no avail. He threw her off and twisted the haft again, swinging with a force that grazed her shoulder when she dodged, slicing deep enough to expose skin.

Xander arched his back restlessly in his seat. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. To the delight of the crowd, first blood had been spilt, but no one made any gestures to end the match so soon when it only felt like it had just begun.

“Oh my,” said Camilla, breaking the silence. “Seems I might win after all.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Xander said, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. “The match isn’t over yet.”

Leo drummed his fingers impatiently against his chair. “A mask is a stupid idea,” he muttered. “Countless soldiers have lost their eyes to fire spells from taking their visors off in battle. Masks are no different.”

“I suppose you’re the one casting the fire spells and that’s how you know,” said Camilla dryly.

“Well, _I_ think masks are cool,” said Elise firmly. “You’re just jealous that you’re not dreamy and dashing like that fighter.”

Leo scowled at her, but his hands were fingering his collar self-consciously.

Xander tuned out their bickering. In the time that lapsed, the masked woman had seized the upper hand, leading the berserker in a frustrating series of lunges and feints. Whenever she enticed him a step forward to strike, she darted back, parried his cut, and then came in low to strike him where he was vulnerable.

The axe rose and crashed into the ground where she had been moments before. Enraged, the berserker bellowed and hacked the air when he realized he had missed his target. He dove in, but too late - she brought her blade up and around in a deadly arc, nicking him twice on the shoulder before she pulled away from his swing. She leaped forward and their blades clashed, ringing louder than the tumult of curses and cheers from the crowd.

“She’ll tire herself from jumping around like that,” Camilla murmured. “One misstep and it’s over.”

Leo shook his head. “Not likely, he’s much too big of a target to miss.”

Breathless, the masked woman darted in circles around her opponent, forcing him to turn and turn and turn to keep her in his line of sight. She flew at him, her blade expertly whirling to chop from above. She carved through through the boiled leather covering his arms, and then struck his chest and neck. Her assault was ceaseless. With each blow, Xander heard the screech of mail scraping against steel as her sword glanced off his armor.

“YIELD!” she commanded, darting behind him. “Yield!” She struck him again. Her movements were jerkier than before, slowed by the ugly gash on her arm, but her sword was poised to strike again if he didn’t listen. “Throw down your arms!”

He ignored her, charging headlong to bring his axe down on her head, but she sauntered out of reach. There was blood trickling freely down his shoulder where she had slashed through the mail, and even more of it was staining his surcoat. For all his strength, he could not touch her with his axe. It was as if she had conjured an aura of steel around her that deflected all of his blows.

“I - command - you - to - _YIELD!"_

“SHUT _UP!"_ he roared back, and the crowd screamed with him.

Squaring her feet into the earth, she advanced forward until she was close enough to throw him off balance. She slashed at the plates of armor protecting his thigh and plunged her sword into his calf with the strength of her entire body. Xander felt a dull ache in his own leg when she twisted the blade and yanked it out. It left with a sickening squelch. With a choked groan, the berserker lurched forward, his knees buckled, and he toppled to the ground, crippled by all the other attacks he had to endure. Like a fallen tree, the impact kicked up an enormous cloud of dust, and he did not stir again.

All was still in the stadium. Quietly, the woman dusted herself off. She limped before her fallen opponent, pressing a hand to her bleeding arm to recompose herself.

“Is it over?” asked Elise tremulously. Both of her hands were covering her eyes, and she took a peek at the arena through her fingers. “It’s over, right? Is it safe to look?”

“Yes,” said Leo. “It’s over, and now we can -”

Elise screamed. Xander almost leaped out of his chair when suddenly the berserker shot out an arm to seize the woman’s ankle. The arena rang with his coarse laughter. “Cry for mercy or admit defeat, it matters not,” he grunted, dragging her closer, hauling her in. “I’ll have you on your knees before all this is over.”

For once, Xander was grateful for her mask because it hid her terror when she shrieked. The force of the berserker's hand flung her to the ground like a rag doll and her sword flew out of her hand. Thrashing wildly, she tried kicking him with her free leg. Xander’s stomach plunged when he saw one meaty fist inch towards her neck. If he squeezed, he would crush her in an instant.

All of the stadium was shouting. She rolled, pivoting forcefully against his grip and it broke and she scrambled out of his reach. She moved with the single-minded purpose of a predator about to devour its prey. A strangled cry issued from his throat when she punched the bleeding gash on his calf, and he dragged himself away with his arm, crippled by the pain.   

“I say when it ends!” she snarled above him.

The Master of Games and a small battalion of rod knights had rushed into the arena. Xander forced himself not to slump into his seat when her victory was announced, but relief was palpable with every rapid beat of his heart. The noise of the crowd was as distant as the sudden fanfare of trumpets, and only when they stopped blaring did he remember that he had lost Camilla’s bet.

Camilla crossed her arms, and there was a small teasing smile on her face. “Congratulations on your new retainer, brother. May she serve you well.”

Xander wasn’t sure when he stood up, but he was standing and a hush had fallen over the entire arena. All was deathly still. He took two long strides to the front of the box and leaned over the edge. "On your feet," he commanded.

Two rod knights hoisted the woman up by the shoulders. She was coated from mask to boots in dirt and gore. While she stood, gentle wisps of healing magic curled around her arm and midsection. The healers departed when she was well enough to stand on her own.

"Unmask yourself," he told her sternly. "I won't speak to a fraud."

"As you wish," she replied.

His breath caught when a stream of silky blue hair billowed out of her hood, framing a face that was both lovely and wise. Striking blue eyes regarded him serenely as though she hadn’t been the cause of the carnage from moments before. It irked him that she was smiling, not broadly enough to be mocking, but her lips were curved just so to show that she was amused by his reaction.

Xander blinked, suddenly disarmed. This wasn’t what he had expected at all. He detected a quality to the woman that he understood viscerally as a prince, a sense of power and dignity which set her apart from common men. She stood before him unflinchingly, resolutely. Her plain armor may have fooled everyone else, but he knew, and he  _needed_ to find out more.

Clearing his throat, he let this boom of his voice reverberate through the entire stadium when he asked, “Warrior, what is your name?”

Her smile never wavered. “My name is Marth.”

“Marth,” he repeated, tasting the name on his lips. “Marth, you have demonstrated a skill that surpasses anything I’ve ever witnessed in this arena. I am obliged to reward you for your efforts, but allow me to ask you this.”

The crowd, silenced up until that point, began to stir restlessly in the stands. No one had been expecting the champion to receive a personal entreaty from the crown prince.

“Yes, sire?” she asked.

“Marth, will you face me and my blade right now in a duel? Your loss will have no bearing on your victory in this tourney.”

She tilted her chin at him boldly. “Sire,” she began, her hand moving to rest on the grip of her sword. “You must be confident in your ability to win if you’re already so certain of my loss.”

He bit back the laugh forming in his throat. "Is that a yes?" he asked. 

She nodded and resumed her stance.

As Xander climbed down the steps of the viewing box, Siegfried began to take a life of its own once he drew it out of its scabbard. Small wisps of black smoke curled off its sacred edge, and it hummed quietly in his hand, thirsting for victory. His heart began to beat madly in his chest. 

They met face-to-face in the center of the arena with both swords point-to-point. Xander found himself unconsciously stooping to meet her at eye level. “Take care, Marth,” he warned. “I am unlike any opponent you have ever faced before.”

“Believe me when I say this, milord,” she whispered. He swore that her sword was singing as she brought it down for the first blow, and it glowed blue in the night. _“So am I.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> omg this is my first time writing for a legit rarepair. I've been screaming about Xander and Lucina since last summer with [ Emma](https://ingrimasname.tumblr.com), but I never intended to write anything for it until FEH came out. Honestly I think that they're super cute together??? The height difference accounts for about 30% of that. 
> 
> I thnk that the age difference is the biggest turn-off for this ship, but to be fair, I've always had aged-up Lucina in mind when I write her with Xander because it makes the most sense to me. I hope I was able to convey her maturity in this chapter because I didn't want to outright say that she's old. 
> 
> But a couple things to keep in mind going forward: 
> 
> Nyx is going to be Xander’s other retainer in this AU. I know that there's a ton of stuff that needs to be discussed with this pairing (lucina's moral dilemma with killing innocents under someone else's orders is the biggest one right now) but.......I really want to keep this fic sweet! Neither of them are really experienced with romance, and I want to explore that!


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